Huge Cloudy Symbols of a High Romance
by m-erechyn
Summary: Sirius watches Remus. He's poetry in motion. "It’s always rather entertaining to watch Remus holler—politely, of course—at hapless firsties as he races down the hall." MWPP, Remus/Sirius.


Disclaimer: The boys (and their novels) don't belong to me. Hogwarts would be a lot slashier-- and seventies-- if it did.

_A/N: I'm still trying to get a feel for the boys; this is my attempt at a more fandom-friendly version of R/S (or at least, something different from my other two R/S fics, _Secrets_ and_ This is the Moment_). So... any advice you've got as to characterization would be absolutely lovely!_

_This is entirely too long and rambly, but I had fun writing it anyway. Enjoy!_

* * *

Sirius doesn't like to be cliché, and he would balk at being called so, but he has always thought that watching Remus run is like watching poetry in motion.

Remus isn't really athletic; he's not good enough at flying to make the Quidditch team, and he's certainly not any good at muggle sports like football or that other one, what was it, crochet? Something with bats and balls, at any rate. His hand-eye coordination leaves quite a bit to be desired (Sirius thinks it might be because of the gangly limbs, although James is equally elongated and does not suffer such ill effects stemming from excess arm and leg), and though Remus can remember all sorts of bothersome prefect-ish rules, he can't seem to remember the crucial rule of football: don't use your hands.

Sirius has come to the conclusion, in fact, that Remus is an utter failure at any and all sports that involve balls, and utterly brilliant at the sports that don't.

Unfortunately, there are not very many athletic activities that do not involve inflated, padded, or cast-iron spheres of some sort, and the lake is, after all, home to the Giant Squid. Which takes swimming out of the question.

The only proper sport left, Sirius reasons, is running. And oh, can Remus run.

It can't be all due to the wolf, Sirius thinks, because when Remus chases after James (who's usually brandishing some possession of his aloft, undoubtedly waving it around like a buffoon) or Peter (who is surprisingly light-footed, given his height to weight ratio), the sprinting figure that is a sight to behold is no less human than he.

Though, strictly speaking, a large portion of Sirius is four-footed, furry, wet-nosed, and inclined to growl at poodles.

Point is, when Remus runs it is truly amazing to watch. The boy who's always so graceless, so clumsy, is transformed into this… _whoosh_, that's how Sirius describes it… this _whoosh_ of power and perhaps even beauty.

Sirius wouldn't really use the word "beauty." He'd say something else, like "greatness," or possibly "magnificence" if he's feeling grandiose. But he can't deny that it's definitely _something_.

It helps that Remus is not one of those people who get weird grimaces on their faces when they run. When he runs he almost always has a smile on his face and he generally just gives the impression that he is having the time of his life, that he is moving faster than the speed of light, and that (this is Sirius's favorite part) anyone in the way better damn well get _out_ of the way before he got to where they were.

(It's always rather entertaining to watch Remus holler—politely, of course—at hapless firsties as he races down the hall.)

Actually, as Sirius thinks more about it (and he really wouldn't spend this much time thinking about Remus J Lupin, honestly, it's just because it's almost summer and he's bored and really, how could any normal person think so much about someone with a name like that? R J Lu-u-u-pin, _really_) the more he realizes that a lot of Remus's actions are, well, poetic. Not to be cliché or anything, because Sirius isn't, really.

For example, the way Remus writes is very poetic, Sirius thinks (again, only because he is bored and it is almost summer and did he mention he was bored?). Remus deliberates over each stroke of the quill, makes each letter a rhythmic swish and sweep. His sleeves are a little short for him, too, and every time he writes a line the pale skin and delicate bones of his wrist are exposed for all the world to see. Maybe Remus's writing is not quite as mesmerizing (did he really just use that word, "_mesmerizing_?" To describe _Moony_?) as his running, but it's beautiful nonetheless.

Sirius always finishes his homework quickly, because he has a natural aptitude for all things magical (and a natural inability for all things practical and useful, such as tact), and so he spends the rest of study hall watching Remus write. Not because it's beautiful, mind you, or that he thinks it's poetic. Just because he is done with his homework and James is still doing his and so he has nothing to do but watch Moony write.

And the way Remus talks is also rather poetic, Sirius muses (though it's a little ridiculous, really, the way his eyes light up and he waves his hands around and sometimes his wand, too, which usually makes for rather interesting magical accidents). His voice isn't particularly anything, but his hands are, what's the word for it? _clever_, Sirius guesses, and he strings together phrases of words that don't quite fit right but sound very nice and mean bright things, and it's all rather _pretty_. Not that Sirius would really say "pretty," and Remus would probably punch out anyone who called him so.

Sirius could probably watch Remus talk for as long as Remus was talking, and seeing as Remus is generally talking to him, Sirius is almost _obliged_ to watch. So it all works out. Sirius also tends to watch Remus for a bit even when he isn't talking to him, but that's okay too, because he's just looking out for a friend, that's all.

The List of Things that are Poetic About Remus Lupin, as Sirius has dubbed this train of thought, could stretch on and on, perhaps all the way to the States if he thought hard enough. But then all the American chaps would have poetical bits and pieces of Remus, and Sirius doesn't want that. So he keeps it to himself.

Days go by, summer is less than a week away, and it is with an awful sort of horror that Sirius realizes that with every poetic thing he thinks of, the more he is inclined to watch Remus doing said poetic thing. And it's actually rather frightening, because he's not _like that_ and he doesn't really want watch his second-best mate (James being the first, of course, they are practically the same person) all the time, but he can't help it.

Remus is just so… _whoosh._ Poetry in motion.

Sirius can't help it.

He's sitting across from Remus right now, watching him read—_he's watching him read!_—and he can't help it.

Sirius puts his head on his arms, forehead pressing against the smooth cool wood of a library desk. "Argh," he mumbles indistinctly. Remus looks up from his book (which, by the way, happens to be an anthology of Keats).

"Pads?" he asks, and leans forward to tap Sirius on the shoulder. His touch lingers just long enough for Sirius to notice the beauty, the poetry in the small movement.

"'m fine," Sirius says, lifting his head up high enough to peer over the wall his arms have made. "Really."

Remus just laughs, then, and ruffles Sirius's hair as only he can.

Sirius watches through half-lidded eyes, a funny half-smile forming on his face.

Poetry in motion.

Soon enough he will begin his own motions, his own slow spinning gravitation towards Remus J Lupin.

But right now, all he does is watch.

_(Whoosh.)_


End file.
